Page 135 of Mad Girl

“Sienna.” You gently nudged her back. “The answer’s no. I’m not interested.”

“I’ve already told you: Michael’s okay with it.”

“And I’ve told you: I’m not okay with it.”

Sienna propped her hip against the counter, arms folded over the bright red spandex top that matched her leggings. “Casey, I’ve kept a lot of secrets for you. I helped you get where you are. Without me, you wouldn’t be standing in this kitchen right now.”

“And I deeply appreciate that,” you said. “But I’m not interested in being anything more than friends.”

She laughed, teeth dragging across her bottom lip. “Well, I’m still interested in being friends who fuck sometimes.” Cocky head tilt. A dramatic pause. “Gives me more incentive to keep your secrets from Michael, you know?”

Fuck sometimes? My heart sank, crashing like the Titanic at the bottom of my stomach.

Your jaw pulsed. “So that’s it, then? You’re happy to sleep with me, knowing it’s something I don’t want to do?”

“Jesus, Casey. You act like you haven’t enjoyed yourself every time we’ve been together. I always make it worth your while, don’t I?”

Heartbroken and livid, I watched that skank drag her claws down your chest as you stared straight ahead with a look of resignation on your face. She had me seeing more red than her fucking outfit that day.

“Wow, Sienna,” I said, stepping into the kitchen. “I knew you were a bitch, but I didn’t realize you were a trash human being, too.”

“Alright,” you said, nudging Sienna toward her coat—a black cropped puffer hanging on one of my stools. “It’s probably best if you leave now.”

“Yeah,” I said, closing in on her, “before I knock your ass into next year.”

Sienna cackled as she grabbed her coat. “Don’t look so homicidal, Elliot. Michael and I have an open relationship this time around, so we’re free to have fun on the side. Casey and I have been together several times since Michael cheated on me, and Michael’s totally okay with it.”

Except Michael didn’t cheat on her. And she knew that. Also: you and her? Together? Several times? My rage soared to disastrous levels.

“Is that what you call forcing someone to sleep with you? Fun?”

“Chill,” she said, rolling her eyes as she slipped one arm into the coat. “Casey knows I’m joking.”

Was she, though? Or—after seeing the murderous look on my face—was she backtracking in an effort to stay vertical?

“Did you think she was joking, Casey?” I asked, still creeping toward her. “Because it didn’t sound that way to me.”

“Off you go now,” you said, helping Sienna into the other sleeve of her coat, then swiftly leading her over to the back door. “We’ll chat later, yeah?”

“Sure,” she said, fingers waggling as she slipped out the door.

As the door closed, you lifted your copper teakettle off the stove and carried it to the sink. Rinsed it out. Added fresh water. Carried the teakettle back to the stove. Then flipped on the gas and strode over to the pantry. All of this without once making eye contact with me.

“Casey—”

“Which biscuits do you prefer today?” you called from the pantry. “The malted milk? Or the custard creams?”

“Are we not going to discuss what just happened?” I called back.

“The malted milk, then,” you said, emerging with a blue package of biscuits.

“Seriously?”

“Okay, fine.” You dropped the biscuits on the counter. “Let’s discuss it. I’ve had enough with the eavesdropping.”

“This is my house.”

“That’s no excuse,” you said, gaze flashing darkly. “Do what a normal person does and enter the bloody room so people know to leave their conversation for another time. Don’t fucking lurk about in the shadows, gathering information that’s none of your business.”